


The Best is Yet to Be

by pinstripedJackalope



Series: Keith's Binder [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Autistic Keith (Voltron), Babies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Foster Kid Keith (Voltron), Found Family, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Introspection, Kid Fic, Kid Hunk (Voltron), Kid Keith (Voltron), Kid Lance (Voltron), Kid Pidge | Katie Holt, Kid Shiro (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Maybe - Freeform, Mental Health Issues, Misgendering, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sensory Processing Disorder, Team as Family, Time Travel, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Pidge | Katie Holt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:55:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18765013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/pseuds/pinstripedJackalope
Summary: Keith is thrown into the deep end one day at the news that his baby self is on board the Castle of Lions and he's now in charge of taking care of said baby.  No one knows what to do with the little ankle-biter, least of all Keith himself.  It doesn't respond to his name, bites everyone who comes within biting distance, and is devouring their store of food goo almost faster than they can make the stuff.  What's a guy to do?A story about self-discovery and found family.





	1. A Summons

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I don't know when I'll update this but since the first chapter was finished I thought I'd put it up! Who knows, maybe somebody out there can motivate me to finish what I've started, haha.

When Keith first receives the summons, it’s early in the 32-hour solar cycle of the main Blade base that serves as their ‘day’.  Woken up after barely two hours of sleep on the tail of an exhausting intelligence mission, he’s _unenthused_ about picking up a non-emergency call from Voltron.  Don’t get him wrong, he’s happy to do anything they ask of him short of piloting the Black Lion, but you have to understand—he’s functioning on a lot less than a full night’s rest, here.

Still, he has to take the call.

Unfortunately, the team can’t give him much information.  Strangely tense, all Allura tells him over the viewscreen is that a series of ‘unorthodox but unavoidable diplomacy events’ have popped up, and he is cordially invited semi-urgently back to the Castle. 

And that’s it.  She tilts her head, listening to something in the distance that doesn’t make it over the broadcast as far as Keith’s mostly-human ears can tell, and signs off in an apologetic flurry.  Keith prepares to set out, giving Kolivan all the information he has—which is none—and sets off toward the Castleship with absolutely no idea what to expect.  He can’t for the life of him figure out what Allura means by unorthodox.  Everything seems kind of unorthodox when you’re out in space doing things that no human has ever done before.  Are they dealing with a particularly finicky bunch of aliens or what?  What good will Keith do in a situation like that?

Five hours of pod transport and one powernap later, he has his answer.  In hindsight, it makes a hell of a lot of sense.  He just wasn’t expecting… well, _this_. 

“Please,” Hunk says, halfway to tears.  It’s barely been two minutes—Keith still has his armor on, for god’s sake.  “ _Please_ tell me you know how to fix it.  We can’t live like this.  I’ve bled on every tea towel on this entire ship.  I have to wear _oven mitts_ when I hold him.”

He’s not even exaggerating.  That’s the worst part.  The little thing is latched onto his thumb at this very moment, all of it’s five very sharp, freshly grown-in teeth digging into the cloth with frankly impressive perseverance.  Big blue-gray eyes stare up as it grinds its little jaw in a teeny circle, black hair sticking up in a persistent tuft.  Keith always thought his father’s stories were exaggerated just to tease him, but seeing it now… yeah, little Keith was a biter, and no, he has _no idea what to do about it_.

Keith leans in close to the little… guy?  No, it must be a guy.  If it’s really him, anyway.  Lil guy just won’t know it for another nine years or so.  Oh, god, it suddenly just occurred to him that they’ve probably been calling the baby by a name it doesn’t respond to.  It’s no wonder they’ve had so much trouble with it.

After another moment it occurs to him that he should probably stop calling himself an _it_ , but he can’t _help_ it.  It’s _blowing his mind_.  This is not a problem that he was mentally or physically prepared to handle.  He’s running on four hours of sleep, barely eight hours out from an exhausting two-day mission and—and—fuck, he doesn’t even have any _pictures_ of his one-year-old self, and now the real thing is _here_ , _in front of him_?  To quote Matt quoting a meme, ‘this is wack’.  And, just to add to the fun, there’s the fact that Baby Keith is only ‘real’ for a certain definition of the word.  Nobody can tell where the baby— _babies_ —came from.  There was druidic magic involved, so they’re tangible, concrete, palpable—definitely.  But are they genuinely, authentically, their bonafide younger selves from this very timeline?  Who knows!  Pidge knows slightly more, but according to her there’s no way to tell if they’re clones, homunculi, versions of them that got spit out from an alternate reality, or the Real Deal—at least not until they can find a way to accurately measure the stability of the fabric of reality. 

So, that’s great.

“The possibility of timetravel and/or alternate realities being involved is a non-zero percentage, especially since we’ve actually encountered an alternate universe,” were Pidge’s exact words on the situation.  “The incidence of passable rifts is so low, though, that timetravel is actually statistically more likely.  So, it’s definitely possible that this will retroactively affect our current reality.  Though maybe not, because we may have stumbled upon a stable time loop and our baby selves have already lived through this… which means I’m now looking for a way to scientifically measure something intangible to figure out which one it is, because obviously _that_ _’s_ going to work.” 

Spoken like a true Voltron Paladin: with an eyeroll of bloodshot eyes, holding a sleeping three-month-old Lance wrapped up in a blue onesie, after what was apparently a very unpleasant first night with the kids.  She had spit-up in her hair.  Keith didn’t mention it.

Seeing a little mini Lance was one thing.  Toddler Shiro was another—it was like watching one of the pictures from the guy’s little Japanese grandpa’s house come to life.  And now, reaching yet another level of absurdism, Keith is face to face with Baby Kogane.  God, those eyes are enormous.  They’re staring into his soul.  He vaguely wonders if the little thing can tell that his soul is a mirror image of its own. 

Yeah, wow, maybe so?  There are now tiny hands stretching toward him.  The baby whines from behind the cloth obstructing its mouth, making insistent grabby motions.  “Oh,” Keith says.  He reaches forward for the little teething monster, hesitant.  “Um… can I…?” 

“Do you want the oven mitts?” Hunk asks tiredly.

If Keith weren’t currently having a staring contest with his own baby self he’d laugh.  The resignation, jesus.  He knew he was hard to handle as a kid but they’ve only had the baby for, like, ten hours.  “No, it’s okay.  My gloves are thick.”

“Yeah, sure, but just remember when he chews right through them that I warned you,” Hunk says, and though the baby wriggles and bites down harder as he passes it over, his careful hands never waver.  He sighs when the little thing takes the oven mitt with it.  For a moment he stands there and blinks his gummy eyes, watching as Keith awkwardly lets the baby press its face into his neck, trying to balance it in his arms.  “Wow.  Have you never held a baby before?”

“I was an only child, thanks.”  Well.  More or less.  Do foster siblings count?  Probably not when you spent less than four months with them before being moved to a group home.

“Pff.  That means nothing, dude.  In my hometown you were automatically registered as a babysitter for the local PTA when you hit the age of twelve.  It was like, a middle-school requirement.  Only one person I ever knew managed to escape, and that was because she had epilepsy and no one wanted to be liable if she dropped an infant.”

Keith laughs, and then darts a hand out as the baby laughs, too, dropping the mitt.  He barely manages to catch it without letting the kid topple over.  Hunk raises both hands, ready to save the day—Keith waves him off.  He’s got it.  Babies he might not truly get, but he has enough experience with rabbits that he feels comfortable enough holding a living thing.  He feels something tugging at his hood: the mitt is falling out of favor now, it seems.  He hopes his clothing is clean enough to be in a baby’s mouth.  Though knowing his father’s stories, the baby has probably been all over the castle already looking for things to gnaw on.  One slightly-worn hood isn’t going to make a difference in the amount of germs going in.

“You know, he’s almost cute when someone else holds him,” Hunk says.  Contrary to the pointed words, his face is already melting into a soft, gooey expression as he watches the baby get comfortable.  He makes a duck-face, pouting out his lips and cooing softly.

Unconsciously, Keith leans away.  He doesn’t know anything about baby-him, but that noise instinctively sets his adult self on edge.  Something about adults staring down at him, pinching his face and touching him like they owned him… he shudders.  He’ll never be over how adults don’t take ‘no’ for an answer when it comes from a kid. 

At least Hunk seems to get the hint.  He straightens hurriedly, clearing his throat.  “Anyway!  We fed him an hour ago, so he should be good for a bit.  I can stick around with you for a while as you get used to it, but I’m going to have to go report to Pidge soon to help her and Coran.  You can hang out with the others in the nursery, but I really wouldn’t suggest letting him down unless you’re watching closely—he is a little tiny Houdini and he doesn’t respond to his name.”

Keith sighs.  “You tried Keith, I guess?”  Hunk nods.  “That’s probably the issue.  It’s not my birth name.”

“Oh.  I guess we should have expected that, none of us go by our birth names.  Uh… well, is there something he’ll respond to?  Or do you… should we just… I don’t know, teach him something new?”

Something this little monster will respond to?  There’s probably only one thing.  Puckering his lips, Keith tries not to think too hard about it.  “Hey, Lottie,” he says to the bundle on his chest.  Instantly the head comes up, pulling on the hood edge that it’s slowly turning into a soggy mess.  Those big eyes lock on him again, and a moment later it opens its mouth in another delighted little laugh, smacking a hand on his shoulder pad.  Pure recognition.  Damn.

Hunk is squinting as Keith shifts to offer the oven mitt like a toy.  “…Lottie?  I may be way tired, but that seems like a weird nickname for a bo—”

Keith cuts him off.  “It’s short for Charlotte.  Just… I don’t know.  How is this a surprise?”  He’s trying not to feel the frustration, but he can’t help it.  He doesn’t want to have to explain all of this.  There is pressure starting to build up at his temples—he wasn’t ready to have this conversation, damnit.  “Haven’t you been changing it?  Her?  _Them_?” he demands instead.  Like pushing the blame off somewhere else is going to work. 

“Shiro did the changing,” Hunk says, pouting.  “Said he wanted to minimize the embarrassment, especially since you weren’t here yet.  I dunno, dude, aside from that you’re as gender neutral as any other baby I’ve ever seen.”

Keith lets his back teeth grind.  It’s oddly similar to the way the baby is back to chewing on the oven mitt, except, he’s sure, a hell of a lot less cute.  Foster parents always thought his outbursts were cute and funny when he was little—until he learned how to hit hard enough to hurt, anyway.  Ugh.  “Sorry,” he manages after another moment of deep breathing.  At least the baby didn’t react to the outburst.  If he made a baby cry ten minutes in he’d probably have to turn right around and leave in humiliation.  “I picked the name Keith when I was thirteen.  It wasn’t until I was ten that I started to realize why ‘she’ felt so wrong.  So… cat’s out of the bag now, I guess.”

“That fucking sucks,” Hunk says.  “Also I’ve never met a transgender baby before.  Do we still call him a ‘him’ or what?”

The more he thinks about it, the less sure Keith is about the whole thing.  He was raised as a girl for most of his life, and it’s not like that was a _bad_ thing.  No one knew any better, not even him.  The baby is small enough that it might not even realize they switched pronouns, but then again… everything is new for it right now.  It’s in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces everywhere.  The food is different, the beds are different, even the sounds of the castle must be strange for its little ears.  Would it be better to just keep using the words it’s used to?  Wait until it can make its own decisions?  Keith closes his eyes against the sharp pressure in his head that’s starting to turn into pain now.  “I don’t… know.  What is Pidge doing?”

He only realizes what he did when Hunk thows a fist up in the air, leaning back with an, “I _knew_ it!  She passed way too well as a guy, and I always wondered how she got around all the physical exams—"

For the love of— “Hunk.  You realize that the Garrison, like literally every other government institution in the country, has anti-discrimination policies, right?  If she was cis she could have still registered as a guy and gotten dorm accommodations.”  Keith tucks his nose against the baby’s scruffy hair, feeling oddly protective of it now that the secret is officially out.  “That’s what I did, anyway.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Hunk.”

“Nope, okay, fair.  Not my place.”  Keith squints, just to make sure that Hunk is really going to let it go, but Hunk gives him an easy shrug and starts leading him to the nursery.  To get everyone settled in for the day, he says.  Everything has been a mess, but they’re trying to get the kids into a routine, including being put down for naps together.

Keith, running on four hours of sleep and thoroughly blind-sided by the whole affair, has a feeling that the mess is just beginning.


	2. A Pacifier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt arrives, Keith discovers why Lottie's reputation is as it is, and the search for a pacifier is on.

The first hour is nothing to write home about, not that Keith intends to write to the blade base, his current home, about much of anything.  Lance, who has been up all night tending to the babies and is wearing a clean diaper as a hat, gives Keith a lowdown of the baby-proofed chamber now dubbed The Nursery.  It’s an old guest room that they’ve commandeered for baby-caring purposes, a space that is covered floor to ceiling in squishy padding that acts like some sort of memory foam and was, apparently, used to house a very specific and very volatile race of aliens that has long since gone extinct due to Galra expansion.  Go figure.

Fifteen dobashes after the tour is done, Keith has been presented with no less than three stuffed animals by Toddler Shiro, and the baby-care duo are ready to get down to the real meat of this very strange and highly unusual mission—the actual baby care. 

“It’s real easy,” Lance says, rocking Baby Pidge in the crook of one arm.  Keith watches warily, just in case Lance decides to fumble and drop her like he sometimes drops his bayard during practice missions, but he’s, dare Keith say it, _good_ with the kids. 

This only becomes more evident as Toddler Shiro presents Lance with a book and Lance praises the kid until he’s blushing and smiling a cute little smile that has Keith secretly melting into the floor.  Really, the only reason Lance seems to need Keith there at all is because of the trouble they’ve been having with Lottie, and now that the name misunderstanding has been cleared up, there doesn’t seem to be much for Keith to really do.  Aside from resign himself to a period of torment of unknown length, anyway.  Mostly because it seems like the name Lottie is stuck, at least for now. 

Lottie… Keith sighs.  The baby literally won’t respond to anything else, and by the second hour they’ve tried everything.  Louie?  No.  Charlie?  Nope.  Lotto?  Not even a blink.  They go back and forth until they’re both out of ideas, and still Lottie thwarts them at every turn.  He swears that the baby is doing it on purpose.

…Okay, probably not, but it’s still unfair.  Every time one of the others calls that name his entire body clenches.  Lance cooing everything from _wanna build a web, Charlotte?_ to singing the Banana Fanna name song for Lottie is starting to bring up some decidedly unpleasant memories.  Keith has ground his teeth so much today that he’s starting to get an ache in his jaw to go along with the tension headache. 

Other than that, though, taking care of the kids is… pleasant. 

Somehow it seems like it should be harder.  Taking care of himself, that is.  He knows nothing about the others, except that all of them had more or less ‘normal’ upbringings.  It’s just… he always thought he was difficult as a child.  The stories his dad’s firefighter friends used to tell certainly made it seem that way.  And the fact that he kept getting passed around, from foster family to group home, after his dad died… he just thought he must have been more of a handful than _this_ to warrant the hot-potato approach. 

And then Lottie starts crying.  And won’t be soothed.  And fifteen minutes later Keith is now nursing not just the wailing baby but also his first real _bite_.  Went right through the skin—he has a feeling it’s going to bruise, too.  Those little jaws are stronger than they look.

“Are you _sure_ it’s not the diaper?” Lance asks from the other side of the room.  It’s not.  Lance can go to hell if he suggests one more time that Keith is incompetent enough to miss the smell of a messy diaper.

“I think maybe… a bottle would help?”

“UGH!  You do realize that he’s gone through more formula goop than the rest of them combined, right?  I get that he’s older than everyone but Shiro but I just don’t understand where it’s _going_.  Especially since _you_ _’re_ so _scrawny_.”

Keith sucks in a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and counts the rhythm of the bounces as he paces Lottie back and forth in their quarantine corner.  His ears are ringing, but no matter what he _does_ it _just.  Won_ _’t.  Stop._

It was like dominoes—first Lottie set off Hunk (Yoshi, they’re calling him), and Hunk set off Lance (Leandro), and their only saving grace was that little Takashi—all three feet of him—is content to sit in a little side room with Pidge (Kay, easily the smallest of the bunch and hardly more than ten pounds) and play with her while the rest of them desperately try to bring peace to the playroom. 

“Maybe,” Keith grinds out, after a moment of forced calm, “you should mind your own business.”

Lance groans, long and low, not even making an attempt at calm.  “We’re taking care of babies, Keith!  I’m not about to purposefully let a baby eat until it’s sick, so yeah, it is my business!”

“Not if you’re just going to rag on Lottie, it’s not.  She—he’s— _ugh_ —”

“Less talking more soothing.  Or better yet, just give him here, you’re probably just holding him wrong—”

“No!  Go away, Lottie doesn’t need you hovering.”  Keith turns his attention back to the flailing bundle, softening his voice.  “You’re probably just overwhelmed,” he says, rocking a little.  “Maybe we’ll see if we can find somewhere dark to sit for a while, what do you think?  Hmm?  But maybe we should see if Allura has a pacifier for you first…”

That, at least, Lance agrees on.  So begins the process of trying to explain what a pacifier is to a literal alien.

“It’s a thing—”

“—Usually a soft thing, like rubber—”

“—god, would you not talk over me—?”

“—I just wanted to make it clear that—!”

“—whatever, just—”

“—it goes in a babies mouth and—”

“—babies can suck on it—”

“—and it’s soothing—”

“—and—”

“Is it necessary?” Allura asks over the two of them, stroking a finger down Lottie’s nose.  Lottie seems entranced by the motion, but only long enough for the wail to come to a stop, at which point there’s a blink and it starts up again with renewed vigor, as if the silence was a reminder that the baby was upset in the first place.  Startled, Allura draws her hand back.

Keith breathes out, blowing a strand of hair off his nose.  “Maybe not, but he—she.  They.  Seem to need something to put in their mouth that they won’t accidentally swallow, and I have no idea what else we could use.  A comfort item or whatever.”

“He—am I doing the pronoun right?—didn’t like the teething toy?”

Keith regrets telling her about western notions of gender and English pronouns.  “Well, yes… for a while.  But then Lance was being Lance—”

“Hey!”

“—and Lottie threw it at him, then bit him when he tried to give it back.”

That had then prompted a three-minute cursing spree mostly made up of Lance saying as many non-curse words in a profane tone of voice as he could string together, culminating in an uttered shriek of “The demon-fangs of _Sunny_ Baudelaire!” which is a reference Keith still doesn’t get.  He’ll have to ask Shiro during naptime.  If they can get Lottie to lay _down_ for a nap, anyway.

He thinks he might finally understand.  The reason no one kept him. 

Lottie just… isn’t like the others.  Where Leandro is talkative, Yoshi is inquisitive, Kay is playful, and Shiro is quiet and shy, Lottie… well.  ‘Frustrating’ is the word that comes to mind.  Lottie is hard to read, slow to soothe, fast to anger, and seems to hold a grudge better than any baby Keith has ever known.  There’s flight, there’s fight, and then there’s _Lottie_.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Allura frets.  “Come with me, would you, Keith?”

Keith sighs and allows her to lead them down the hall to the elevator, leaving Lance alone to soothe the others.  Holding a wailing Lottie is like trying to hold an armful of wet marbles but he does his best, making sure to watch out for any sharp corners in their general vicinity. 

He’s doing his best about a lot of things, these days.

“So,” Allura says, the moment they’re locked in the elevator together.  She has to nearly yell to be heard over Lottie.

Keith grunts and eyes her, his suspicions already rising.  She’s been popping her head in every hour or so to ‘check in’ with the little ones, but spotting ulterior motives is a specialty of Keith’s and hers are bare for anyone with eyes to see.  She’s been trying to catch Keith alone since he arrived, and no matter how diplomatically she brings up what Keith knows she’s going to bring up he’s aware that he’ll have to disappoint her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she starts.  Tucking her folded hands under her chin, she gives him a look with those big eyes of hers.  Keith winces a little, holding tighter to Lottie, who squirms against him. 

Allura doesn’t continue—she’s waiting for him to respond.  “Uh, yeah—this is an, uh, interesting change of pace,” he says.  He hopes that’s good enough—he doesn’t want to be rude, but the dread of what’s coming is already weighing down his tongue.

“It is!” she says, bright and bubbly and probably a little bit forced.  “We’ve had quite a lot of adventures together, but nothing quite like this has come up until now.”

Keith nods along, trying to ignore the way his heart is beginning to thump in his chest and sweat is starting to gather under his arms.  He hates this.  Hates the pleasantries, the small talk, the lead-ins—he wishes she’d just be straightforward and _say it_ so that he could rip off the bandaid without all this conversation nonsense. 

“Our adventures together have been pretty fun, haven’t they?” Allura asks.

God.  She’s really laying it on thick.  Any thicker and she’d be winking along to the word ‘together’.  “Mm-hmm,” Keith hums, bouncing Lottie and wondering how much longer they’ll be trapped in this damn elevator together.  He should really have thought this through before following along.

Alas.  “Speaking of adventures… you know you’re always welcome back to join us for more.  For short stays like this one, of course, but if the situation were to drag on longer you’d certainly be welcome to consider a longer visit—”

There it is.  Keith sighs.  Time to disappoint.  “Allura… you mean well, but everyone is better off without me screwing up the team dynamic.  I’m the lone wolf, remember?  Even as a baby I’m the lone wolf, so just… drop it, would you?”

The way her timidly hopeful expression falls makes Keith want to close his eyes and turn away.  To backtrack—to take it all back and tell her that of _course_ he’ll come back for good.  Resisting the urge to come back is like a physical pain.  He feels it in his chest, like he’s slowly sliding a knife between his own ribs, but he knows—he _knows_.  That they’re better off like this.  He left for the blades for a reason, and that reason hasn’t magically been resolved in the past few quintants.

They’re silent for the rest of the elevator ride.  The sojourn to find a pacifier is quick and efficient—turns out the Alteans had devices that served the same purpose, just made from a spongy material that they’d soak in sweet tea first.  The tea distracts Lottie long enough for Keith to sneak another bottle behind Lance’s back, and then Lottie is down for the count, exhausted from the wailing.

That’s when Matt arrives, all long limbs and solemn rebel cloak, his dark hood contrasting starkly with the gleeful look on his face as Keith, now the welcoming party, explains the situation.

“Pidge is a _baby_?” Matt crows, nearly vibrating with excitement.

“Well, no,” Keith says.  He’s still wrapping his brain around it, himself, but he does his best to explain the situation.  “Pidge is still Pidge, but we also have a… baby… Pidge.”

“Semantics,” Matt says, flapping a hand as if to wave Keith’s awkward words away.  “Basically what you’re saying is that there is an _infant Pidge_ aboard this ship _right now_ , am I correct?”

“Uh.”  Keith resists the urge to glance around, unsure if he should answer honestly with how Matt’s eyes are practically glittering.  “Yes…?” he tries.

Matt lets out a _whoop_ , throwing both arms into the air.  Keith winces at the volume, ears still sensitive from Lottie’s tantrum.  “Then what are you waiting for?!  Lead the way, my good man!”

Keith doesn’t need to be told twice.  He would, in fact, probably strangle Matt if he said those words in that peppy voice one more time.  Feeling more exhausted than he has in literal years, Keith leads the way from the landing bay to the nursery, retracing the steps that he and Hunk took some odd hours ago.  How long has he been with Lottie already?  It definitely hasn’t been a full day yet, but his tired arms tell a decidedly long and woeful story about many hours spent bouncing a screaming baby.

It can’t have been that long.  His communicator’s alarm hasn’t gone off to tell him that it’s time to send a status update to Kolivan.  There’s also the fact that Hunk hasn’t dragged him to dinner to force some food into him.  There’s no escaping dinnertime on the Castleship, not when Hunk is around.  Unless, of course, Hunk literally just passed out after passing Lottie along to Keith, which, Keith supposes, would be fair.

He’s going to have to find a present for Hunk to apologize.  Just a little ‘ _hey, sorry you had to deal with my demonic baby-self_ ’ sort of gift.  Maybe some spices from the Blades’ cafeteria or something… hmm…

Two steps into the nursery and Matt stops short, nearly causing Keith to walk into him.  “Oh,” he breathes.  “My.  _God_.  Keith, I think I’m going to die of cute.”

Keith, unconvinced, peers in over his shoulder.  The reason for Matt’s reaction is immediately obvious—Takashi is asleep on a square pad in the middle of the floor, curled up on his side with his thumb in his mouth and his thick black hair curling across his forehead.  Yoshi and Leandro are sitting beside him, patting at each other in a primitive game of patty-cake, and Kay…

Matt wheezes, clutching his chest.  “Oh my god.  Oh my _god_ ,” he says again, and Keith would roll his eyes if it weren’t for the fact that Kay is now bundled up in the smallest onesie he’s ever seen, slumped in a bassinet and fast asleep.  It’s bright green with a little hood and two little cat ears.  And a tail, Keith realizes, as Matt gently picks up the sleeping baby and cradles it in the crook of his arm.  Kay doesn’t so much as twitch.  “Hi, Kay… big bro is here,” Matt whispers, stars in his eyes.  He’s obviously smitten.  If he puts Kay down at any point in the next three hours or so Keith will eat his blade mask.

Wait a second.  Keith frowns, looking away from the brotherly love that is all but suffocating him.  Takashi—one.  Yoshi and Leandro—two, three.  Kay—four. 

…Where is unlucky number five?

As if reading his thoughts, a testy burble rises up from the far corner, the farthest you can get from the sleeping youngins without leaving the room altogether.  Lance, standing beside the babies, jerks a thumb over in that direction with a stare that has Keith sighing.  No rest for the wicked, it seems.  Time to get back to it. 

Keith takes a moment to pray to whatever gods are listening that this mess gets sorted out soon, and then, with trepidation borne of the bruising bite mark on his wrist, heads back over to Lottie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	3. A Panic Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lottie go wandering, Hunk gets some sleep, and Keith hits a tipping point.

When Keith gets restless, he usually takes up a blade and gets down to training.  When Lottie gets restless, well… Lottie can’t exactly wield a weapon, but Keith, after a good deal of trial and error, is starting to understand that stimulation is needed all the same.  This is where Lance’s one and only reasonable idea comes into play—a baby wrap made of a soft Altean fabric that feels absolutely heavenly.

Suited up in his day clothes, baby clinging to his back, Takashi tagging along at his side holding onto his pinky… yeah, Keith is feeling pretty good about this.  Especially when he makes a game of turning whichever way Lottie starts leaning in the confines of the baby wrap, causing Takashi to giggle madly as he follows along.  They wander for the sake of wandering, free birds in an alien wilderness, exploration at their fingertips.  It’s nice. 

For now.

“Hey, Hunk?  I was thinking—”

Keith pauses in the doorway of the Yellow Paladin’s room, taking in the lump sprawled on the floor.  Hunk is passed out on in a pile of blankets—poor guy didn’t even make it to his bed.  Looks like dinner for the adults is officially canceled.

Keith shakes his head, guiding Takashi away from Hunk’s door so he can close it again.  Hunk deserves his rest.  Bedtime for the little ones will come eventually, and Keith is reasonably confident that he’ll still have enough wits about him to snag a small meal before he crashes.  He’s still exhausted, but he’s hitting his second wind now, and when they hit the hallway with the main command center, he lets Takashi tug at his fingers.  “This way!” Takashi says, not even looking up to make sure Keith is following.  He’s so sure of himself—kid knows what he wants.

Keith can’t help it—he smiles, changing course.  Some more tugs at his hand, and a moment later they pass through a doorway into an observation deck with a magnificent view of the passing stars.  Keith has no qualms about hefting Takashi up onto his hip to get a better view, especially as the kid’s mouth drops open, staring at the three-dimensional hologram of slowly drifting star systems.

“Baba?” Lottie says from behind them, the pacifier muffling whatever baby speak is trying to make its way out. 

“Lookit!  It’s a cossemation!” Takashi says, pointing upward.  Lottie wriggles, patting at Keith’s shoulders excitedly as Keith laughs and explains that it’s actually pronounced ‘constellation’.

“Cosell… cosellation?” Takashi tries.  “Cosell… uh… costillation!”

Close enough.  They spend a few minutes zooming in and out of the different quadrants of the Messier 51 galaxy, Keith explaining the holographic hand controls to Takashi as Lottie’s little palms continue to pat at his shoulders.  Before too long, however, Lottie starts to squirm for real and Keith sets off again, this time heading for the command center. 

“Any progress?” he asks, poking his head through the doorway.  Takashi leans around his leg, big eyes taking in all the holoscreens covering the vast and seemingly unoccupied space.  Even Lottie is quiet for a moment, curling a hand around the back of Keith’s collar.

After a moment of ominous silence, a groan wafts upward from one of the consoles.  “No babies in the science room,” Pidge says. 

Ah.  There she is.  How she knew he had the babes with him he may never know.  “Fine,” he says, starting to pull back.  “Just thought I’d let you know that your brother is here.”

Pidge’s head shoots up from where it was previously resting on the surface of her tablet, which was resting on her knees.  “Oh, no,” she moans, a tuft of hair sticking straight up.  “How many pictures has he taken?”

Keith exchanges a look with Takashi.  Takashi giggles, which might as well answer that question.  “Only four hundred,” Keith says lightly.  Enough to fill an entire data-stick, which is in transit to the nearest rebel base as they speak so that Matt could share the miracle with literally everyone he knows.

“Oh my _god_.”

Like brother like sister.  Keith grins, hand on Takashi’s head to guide the kid out of the way of the automatic door, leaving Pidge to her misery.

Or he would, if Pidge hadn’t called out a, “WAIT!”

“Yes?” Keith hums, leaning back through the doorway.  Lottie babbles something over his shoulder.  He can feel little feet kicking against his lower back—he bounces the bundle on his back a little to keep the baby occupied.  “What is it?”

Pidge just sighs the sigh of someone who has the weight of the universe on their shoulders.  She’s on her feet now, tablet in hand, making her way over.  She looks more and more like a zombie the closer she gets.  “I need you to confirm something from the baby’s bloodwork.”

Ah.  Coran had come through while they were working out how to properly swaddle Lottie to pick up a blood sample from him to compare to the one they got from Lottie before he arrived.  “What is it?” he asks again, more wary now.  If this is another lead-in to a ‘why won’t you come back to Voltron don’t you miss us’ questionnaire he’s going to _lose it_.

Fortunately, Pidge gets single-minded when she’s sleep deprived.  Whatever she thinks about the fact that he’s defected to the Blade full-time is buried beneath about a hundred tons of science jargon, which she wastes no time dumping over his head.  Something about the past-to-future ratio of cronitons in the nuclei of the atoms making up his red blood cells?  Keith has always liked science but xeno-physics is on a whole other level. 

“…I guess I could have saved all that for someone who cares,” she says, once she’s done, surveying Keith’s blank expression.  “Whatever.  I need your blood, so gimme.”

He consents to having another vial of blood drawn, perching on the edge of a chair for the prick of the collection-gun.  It only takes a second, and then Pidge is off, muttering again.  Keith is about to follow when Lottie lets out a rather high-pitched scree and the pacifier becomes a projectile, shooting across the room.  Takashi starts laughing as Keith attempts to track it down.  Pidge raises her head to glare.

Needless to say, the three of them are banned from the science room after that.

Keith sighs, heading back out into the greater castleship.  Another floor, another observatory, and Lottie’s fidgets are starting to get less ‘baby excited by stimulation’ and more ‘cranky goblin in need of food’.  It really is something, how fast Lottie goes through bottles.  Which means it’s now back to the nursery. 

Keith sighs a little, his shoulders wilting slightly.  Lance will be there.  Matt and Lance both.  And it’s not that he doesn’t like the two of them.  He does.  Lance is sweet when he wants to be, highly empathetic and a good friend.  And Matt… Matt is upbeat and witty, always willing to make himself the butt of a joke to lighten the mood.  He’s one of Shiro’s closest friends, and he’s insanely smart, to boot.  The problem is that he and Lance both seem to instinctively know what to _do_ with the babies.  Matt _knows_ Kay.  He knows what pronouns to use, how to handle her, how to keep her _happy_.  While Keith struggles with Lottie, Matt and Lance are all but running circles around him.

And it’s not like that’s a bad thing.  Happy babies are what they’re striving for, after all, at least until they can return the little munchkins to wherever it is they came from.  But still, watching Matt with Kay… or Lance with Yoshi and Leandro… watching how _easy_ it is… something about it makes Keith’s stomach hurt.

“Up!” Takashi says, shaking Keith out of his thoughts. 

Keith crouches down to haul Takashi up to his hip.  “At least you’re easy,” he says, and sighs.

By the time they reach the nursery, Lance—still bright and bushy-eyed despite the situation—has nearly finished the onesies he’s been making.  How he’s found the time to feed everyone AND keep them occupied AND sew together baby pajamas is beyond Keith, but whatever.  Keith sneaks another bottle for Lottie before Lance is finished pulling Yoshi’s little hands through the sleeves of a little yellow lion suit, cooing all the while.  Then it’s Lottie’s turn, the little imp squirming until Lance plants his hand on the imp’s little belly.  Lance then plops the red lion down beside the others, lining them all up like their own mini-lion space show, Kay laying on her back and the others propped up on all fours.

“Oh _no_ ,” Matt says, stars in his eyes.  “They’re—”

“Too _cute_ ,” Lance finishes for him, all alight.  He looks like he’s about to go and squeeze all their little cheeks, all at once.  While Keith will admit that the tails are pretty cute, he feels the need to protect the baby cheeks from Lance and his pinchy fingers.

Turns out he needn’t have worried, though, because that’s when Lottie rears up, lets out a _terrifyingly_ galran growl, and sinks all five teeth into Lance’s wrist.

“Jeepers _creepers_!” Lance screams, as Takashi giggles.  Keith grabs Lottie around the middle, attempting to wrestle the jaws from Lance’s flesh without hurting either party.  Lottie is smiling, he finds, as he finally pulls Lance free—taking the spirit of a lion straight to heart.

“Lottie… come on, kid,” Keith mutters, as Lottie raises an arm to bat at him with one paw-hand.  “Where did you even learn to do that?”

He receives no answer, just more babbling and baby-paw-hands.  A nature documentary?  A picture book?  Pure predatory instinct?  Keith may never know.  Just like he may never know what really happened to his mother, why or where she disappeared to.  Just like he may never know what it’s like to feel _okay_ in his skin.  He sighs.

The evening wears on, and as it goes, Keith finds it harder and harder to focus on his nursemaid duties.  He just… he’s started to wonder if he feels so bad because he wishes someone had been there for him, to use the right pronouns and let him know that it wasn’t so strange to feel bad about the idea of being a girl.  He just needed someone to _understand_ when he was younger, needed someone who would actually take the time to realize that when he said that people’s voices hurt it was actually sensory processing disorder and when he insisted that he didn’t like to wear dresses it was actually dysphoria and that it didn’t have to be so _awful all the freaking time_ —

His breath catches in his throat.  His hands tingle.  His armpits grow damp with sweat, and he finds that he’s staring at the room through a long, black tunnel.

 _Panic attack_ , he realizes.  He sets Lottie carefully down on one of the play mats and then sinks down with his back to the wall, trying to sip enough air into his lungs.  Lottie burbles, crawling toward him.  He clutches at his hair.  Lance is on the other side of the room, and Matt is holding Kay, and this can’t—he can’t—everything is _wrong_ , he _can_ _’t_ —

God, why is this _happening_? 

“Hey Keith, did you want to—oh.” 

Keith doesn’t look up, even as Shiro lowers his voice, crouching down at his side.  “Hey,” Shiro says, so soft.  It makes Keith want to scream.  How can Shiro be so calm when the world is swinging off its axis?  “You having sensory stuff?  I’m sure Lance can take Lottie for a bit if you need to go lie down.”

“I’m not—I’m—I can’t—”

His words aren’t working.  Keith growls, mirroring the sound that came from Lottie but deeper and lower.  Still galran.  Still inhuman.  Still _Keith_. 

“Alright, alright.  Time to take a break, here we go,” Shiro says, and Keith lets himself be hauled to his feet because Shiro gives him no other choice.  It feels the same now as it did when he was fourteen, when Shiro was there pulling him out of a flight simulation after he crashed it intentionally because his comms officer just wouldn’t stop _talking_.  Shiro pulls him up and holds him there and it’s just—there’s just—Keith and Lottie and the bites and the names and pronouns and god does it ever _end_ —

It takes ten minutes out in the hall, forcing deep breaths into his lungs, before the panic attack eases back.  The frustration, on the other hand, won’t allow itself to be beaten back so easily.

Shiro, thankfully, is patient, cleaning the bites on Keith’s hands and arms with that straight-laced resolve that’s so embedded in his character.  He listens as Keith rants about the baby and the bites and the names and the pronouns, how the dysphoria has started to rear its ugly head every time he tries to use gendered pronouns for Lottie, and everything else that comes to mind.  He doesn’t say a word all the way up until Keith says, “Screw Lottie!  She’s—she’s just—”  He throws out his arms trying desperately to come up with _words_.  “She’s just some mistake the universe made once upon a time!”

“Hey,” Shiro says, finally, reaching over to flick Keith on the forehead.  “That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”

“ _I_ _’m_ your best friend.  Lottie?  Lottie was just one of _so many pieces of me_ I had to throw out to become even a _fraction_ of what you believed I could be.  And I _still_ fucked it up.”

Keith then closes his mouth, his eyes starting to water.  He didn’t… he didn’t mean to say that.  He didn’t mean to drag Lottie, either—Lottie is just a baby, a baby who can’t help but be exactly what they are.  He doesn’t regret cutting away those pieces of himself—he doesn’t regret the girl he once was.  She didn’t know any better.  She didn’t realize how wrong _she/her_ was.  And when she did—when _he_ did—he decided to move forward, craft a new self.  He never thought he’d have to look back, have to see the little girl who lived a happy life with a father who smiled across the breakfast table and ruffled her hair.  He could move forward as something different, something that fit better, something tempered in grief and absence, something _strong_ , a _fighter_. 

And then there was Shiro, who came in like a tornado, ripping up all his roots, who asked him _not_ to fight, to _believe_ in himself… and Keith threw _that_ self again behind him, striving to be better, to be good, to be worthy of the love Shiro gave him.  He forced himself forward.  He never looked back.

And then again, when he was a dropout, faced with the reality of being a Paladin of Voltron, savior of the universe… again, he threw aside his old self and moved forward.  He moved forward and moved forward and told himself every day that today… today he would be better, stronger.  He left pieces of himself behind.  He thought that was it.  He thought that was the path forward.

He just… he never factored in Lottie coming back, _literally_ , as if to haunt him.

“Forget I said anything,” Keith says, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Keith…”

“No, look, it’s—I did my best, you know?  I tried _so hard_ to do what you guys were doing, what you wanted me to do.  If I didn’t make it in the end that’s my own fault—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence before Shiro is wrapping an arm around him, pulling him sideways into a hug.  Keith, sprawled out with his face pressed into Shiro’s side, grunts.

“Sorry,” Shiro says, not sounding very sorry at all.  Then he gets serious.  “Keith, listen.  From a practical standpoint.  I know the pronouns are giving you pain, but do you honestly need to gender Lottie?  Does Lottie need to be a he or a she when they is perfectly acceptable?”

Keith grunts again, but Shiro is still holding him hostage.  It feels too good to put up a real fuss.  Especially as Shiro continues, saying, “And from an emotional standpoint… I may not have known every version of you, but if there’s one thing I know it’s that there isn’t a version of you out there who doesn’t deserve love.  It’s going to sound sappy, but… I’m thankful that Lottie existed.  I’m so thankful.  Because if it weren’t for Lottie, you wouldn’t be here with me right now.  You know?”

“I guess,” Keith says, muffled.  “But still—”

Shiro talks over him, apparently having decided that Keith is done contributing to the conversation for now.  “I know it’s hard to have Lottie around.  But please, give them a shot?”

Keith is silent for a long time.  Long enough that Shiro lifts his arm to check and make sure he’s not suffocating.  He’s not, he’s just… thinking.  Thinking about how hard the last months have been.  Lottie isn't the only thing weighing on Keith's mind.  Before he can admit that to Shiro, however, Lance comes barreling out of the nursery in a full-on panic to ask, “Is Lottie with you two?”

Keith and Shiro both shake their heads.

“ _Fudge_.”

Uh, oh. 

“So, uh… I’ve got some bad news.”

Oh, _no_.

“Yeah.  I’ve lost Lottie.”

…God. 

 _Damnit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I feel about this chapter, I've been over it so many times now. I may come back to edit it a little.
> 
> ALSO you get bonus points if you can find the obscure futurama reference this chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Cheers!


End file.
